The Autobot Air Commander
by QoS
Summary: When Powerglide calls himself the Autobot Air Commander, Silverbolt is indifferent—at first. But he soon finds himself caught up in a subtle but bitter rivalry that he can settle in only one way.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's note : Yes, a fic that _doesn't_ star the Stunticons. I'm as surprised as you are._

_There's also a shoutout to Koi Lungfish's "Stuck in the Mud". Hope you enjoy!_

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

Unless his team was engaged in battle, Silverbolt kept their gestalt link in a corner of his mind, functioning like a necessary but self-regulated subroutine. Or background noise, of which there was plenty when the other Aerialbots were around.

It wasn't that he disliked being constantly aware of his teammates, exactly. It was just easier to go about his duties and catch up on his reading and maybe even spend a little time trying to play N-dimensional chess with Perceptor when he wasn't distracted by the often volatile surge and flux of his team's emotions. If ever those got really out of control, he checked in with them, but for the most part he left them alone. They knew they could rely on him if things ever got really bad, but they also knew he wasn't going to peer over their shoulders or bail them out of every scrape.

So when he heard the chorus of footsteps approaching his office, he guessed something was up. He set down the flight schedule he'd been going over and tapped the gestalt link, just enough to sense an undercurrent of deep resentment. It felt as unpleasant as sandpaper rubbed against his wings, but just as impotent, incapable of doing any real damage.

He still knew it would be a little while before he could return to the flight schedule, though.

"Hey, Silverbolt!" someone said from outside, the words almost drowned out as a fist thumped on the doors.

It was Air Raid, and he didn't sound happy at all. Silverbolt leaned back in his chair, trying to make himself as comfortable as possible for whatever was going to happen.

"Come in," he said, and the doors hissed apart. The other Aerialbots crowded inside immediately.

As the team leader, Silverbolt merited not only his personal quarters but an office, and although that had previously been large enough for him to meet with Optimus Prime, Prowl and Hot Spot simultaneously, it never seemed big enough to accommodate all the Aerialbots. Their height and wingspans filled it, and everywhere he looked was red and white rather than the dull orange of the Ark's walls.

Skydive claimed one of the two chairs on the other side of the room, but the other stayed empty and Silverbolt could tell right away that the other Aerialbots were too agitated to keep still. Turbines whirred and Slingshot's wing flaps were twitching. Above them, the tiny model Concorde hanging by a fine wire from the ceiling swayed minutely, as if buffeted by a wind.

"What's wrong?" Silverbolt said without preamble.

"It's Powerglide," Air Raid said at once. "He was talking slag about you."

_Oh, is that all? _Silverbolt almost wanted to laugh, because he was far too used to how some of the Autobots (_the other Autobots_, he reminded himself, _because we're Autobots too_) talked about them. Odd that that would have upset the team so much, though.

"Powerglide's just jealous," he said, looking around at the team. Slingshot's arms were folded and Fireflight's mouth set in a tight line; they really were taking this seriously, so he had to defuse the situation. "He was the only Autobot flyer before we showed up. Of course he's going to—"

"He can be jealous all he fragging well likes," Air Raid said. "But he doesn't get to pull rank he doesn't have."

"Air Raid," Silverbolt said as evenly as he could, "don't interrupt me again. All right?"

He was fond of his team and so he tolerated a lot from them; they could tease him, ask how he had ever become their leader or even question his decisions, albeit in private. But he didn't allow them to get away with open rudeness, not in private, not anywhere. Especially not Air Raid, whose unruly streak was a mile long; Silverbolt liked his defiance, but not when it turned in _his_ direction.

So now Silverbolt waited until he got a half-grudging nod in reply, then continued. "What do you mean, pull rank?"

"He said he should be the Autobot Air Commander," Skydive said.

Silverbolt laughed—he couldn't help it. "Are you serious?" He knew the answer in the next moment, of course; Skydive was perhaps the only Aerialbot completely lacking in a sense of humor, and anything to do with flying he took even more seriously.

"You think that's funny?" Slingshot said with a withering look. He leaned against the wall, arms still crossed and his optics fire-hot behind his orange visor. "Well, a lot of 'bots don't. And if they agree with that jumped-up glider…"

"Just where are we going to be?" Air Raid said.

Fireflight nodded. "Besides, if anyone should be the Air Commander, it's you, Bolt."

Of the five of them, Fireflight was the most good-natured, so he said that as if conferring a well-earned reward, but Silverbolt felt any remaining traces of a smile drain off his face. He had no desire to get into some sort of contest with Powerglide—or with anyone, for that matter.

"I'm already the Aerialbot leader," he said. "I don't need to be anything else, but Powerglide doesn't have any such position. So let him pretend to be the Air Commander if he likes. I've got no problem with him being the self-appointed Autobot version of Starscream."

He thought that would settle it, because the Aerialbots were united in their loathing of Starscream, much as they secretly admired his skill in flight. But Air Raid shook his head.

"We told him just what Fireflight told you," he said. "That if anyone was the Air Commander, it was you."

_Oh great,_ Silverbolt thought. "Where did all this happen again?"

"In the common room."

_Better and better_. The Ark was not a private place; by nightfall every 'bot would have heard about the confrontation. "And he just said he should be the Air Commander, out of the blue?"

There was a subtle change in Air Raid's expression, brief as a flicker in his optics, but Silverbolt caught it—just as he did the quirk of Slingshot's mouth and the sudden uncertainty in Fireflight's face. He said nothing, though. For all Air Raid's faults, he always admitted to whatever he had done, and sure enough he spoke up a moment later.

"Well, not exactly out of the blue," he said, shifting his weight from one foot to another. "I told a joke about him."

"I see," Silverbolt said. There was a pause. "Go on."

"Go on?" Air Raid said with an air of innocence.

"Share the joke."

"Oh." He paused, evidently thinking it over and realizing that Silverbolt would eventually hear the joke from some other 'bot. Or perhaps even from its subject, in which case it would sound ten times more offensive than it would be coming from the source. So he smiled broadly and launched into it.

"Powerglide staggers into some minibots' meeting looking all banged up and dented. 'Whoa man,' says Brawn. 'What happened to you?' Powerglide hangs his pointy head. 'Well,' he says, 'I was flying over the beach when I looked down and what did I see but Jazz lying there on his back, all polished and shiny, with his legs spread and his interface panel open. So of course I dived down.'"

If Silverbolt could have crawled under his desk he would have done so. As it was, it took all his considerable self-control not to react in any way, much less sink his head into his hands. Air Raid continued, his grin growing wider.

"'Wow,' Bumblebee says. 'Jazz must've been startled.' 'Yeah,' Powerglide says, 'but not as much as Mirage was!'"

He cracked up laughing, Fireflight chuckled and Slingshot smirked. Skydive just looked as though he was a thousand miles away. Silverbolt waited until they were silent again.

"Were Jazz or Mirage in the common room at the time?" he said, though he had a feeling the answer was yes. Air Raid simply wasn't the type to do anything behind anyone's back.

"Jazz was," Air Raid said, sounding utterly unconcerned about the proprieties of telling dirty jokes involving the third-in-command of their army. "Don't worry, Bolt, he thought it was hilarious."

_He would_, Silverbolt thought. "And Mirage?"

"Didn't see him around," Slingshot said.

If he had been trying to lessen the tension in the room, it didn't work, and there was a brief silence as Silverbolt made a mental note to apologize to Mirage later. That kind of humor wouldn't have gone down well with him or Powerglide; Mirage was too fastidious and Powerglide too self-important.

"So that's why Powerglide said he should be the Air Commander," he said. That was starting to make a lot more sense now.

"Well, maybe, but that doesn't make it fair," Air Raid said. "I mean, if he was torqued off about the joke he should've taken it out on me instead of trying to grab your position."

"That's not my position!" Silverbolt said, feeling his usual restraint start to fray. "I am not interested in being Air Commander, all right? The Autobots don't even need such a rank."

"Why not?" Fireflight said. "I mean, the 'cons have it."

"Half of them are flyers," Skydive said, apparently returning from whatever reverie had kept him preoccupied. "So their second-in-command had to be a flyer as well, and therefore the Air Commander."

"Second-in-command, huh?" Air Raid said, optics gleaming.

"_No_," Silverbolt said, before he realized Air Raid hadn't meant that—he'd just been trying to get a rise out of his leader. _Primus preserve me._ He decided to turn the conversation away from himself and back to just how useless such a rank was to the Autobots.

"Skydive is right," he said, feeling relieved that there was at least one Aerialbot who talked sense. Unlike the others, Skydive was never emotional. "The Decepticons may need an Air Commander, but we don't—and I hope we're not going to look to _them_ for our standards again."

That was a fairly pointed dig and Slingshot looked sullen, but Air Raid was just as determined as ever. "You're not even going to consider it?" he said. "I mean, think of how the 'bots would treat you. How they'd treat all of us. Air Commander is a big step up from being just another gestalt team leader."

"And there might be privileges," Skydive added. "Right now you have to file flight schedules each time we go on patrol or on training manuevers—and you have to get those approved. The only time we just taxi out and get in the air is when the 'cons attack and everyone decides we're needed."

"That's because unidentified aircraft suddenly appearing in someone's airspace are usually treated as Decepticons." Silverbolt tried to keep the tautness out of his voice, but he didn't succeed. The others got into trouble together because they were reckless or belligerent or just plain impressionable, but when Skydive followed them into a mess (or worse still, instigated one himself), it was because he had convinced himself on some logical level that it was the best thing to do. And arguing him out of such a position was well-nigh impossible.

"Powerglide seems to fly whenever he wants to, instead of on a schedule," Skydive said. Before Silverbolt could point out that Powerglide flying overhead didn't resemble one of the Decepticon F-15s—Air Raid did, and had been shot down once for it—he continued. "Besides, that isn't the only privilege I had in mind. If you were the Air Commander we could get our own quarters."

That was a sore spot, Silverbolt realized. With the addition of two gestalt teams, not to mention newcomers like Skyfire, the Autobots' numbers had grown, and as a result Skydive had to share a room with Fireflight. Silverbolt had never thought of Fireflight as a difficult roommate—it wasn't as though Skydive had to share space with Gears or Sunstreaker—but Skydive liked his privacy.

Plus, he was, technically at least, the second-in-command of the team—though Silverbolt couldn't help wishing for a second-in-command who backed him up. Then he reminded himself that the real function of that position was to look out for the good of the team, not necessarily of the leader.

But he didn't think this latest and craziest idea would do the Aerialbots any good. If he somehow became the Air Commander, not that Prime would ever entertain the notion, it would make Powerglide resent them more, and a lot of other Autobots might see them as taking another step too close to the 'cons for comfort. Silverbolt and Hot Spot were good friends, so Hot Spot probably wouldn't envy him, but Silverbolt wouldn't be just another gestalt leader—he'd be someone with ambitions above and beyond that.

"If you want your own quarters so badly, I'll see what I can do," he said. There were parts of the Ark which were deserted due to damage but which were being rebuilt, not to mention cautious excavations into the volcano. "But I'm not going to make a blatant power grab, so you can all forget about that."

"Yeah, Silverbolt's right," Slingshot said to the others. He uncrossed his arms, clearly pleased to have everyone's attention on him. "He's not the kind who goes after power. He gets it handed to him by Prime."

"Slingshot," Silverbolt said, a warning in his tone. It was one thing to be criticized, but that was going too far.

"Isn't that the truth?' Slingshot looked a challenge at him. "You got your rank from Prime. That's fine, we're used to it. But here's a rank you could _earn_, and you don't want to."

"And how exactly am I supposed to earn it?" Silverbolt was starting to get angry. "By beating Powerglide in a race? By beating him, period?"

"Sure!" Air Raid said eagerly. "His top speed is nowhere near yours."

"No one'd ever talk slag about you again," Fireflight put in.

Slingshot nodded. "We'd like having a leader whom other 'bots looked up to... maybe literally."

Silverbolt was on his feet before he could think once, let alone twice, and since he was taller than any of the other Aerialbots, he stared down at them. In the back of his mind he sensed their surprise and unease, a gradual realization that they had gone too far, but the sharp raw sting at their words felt much closer at hand.

"Sorry to have disappointed you," he said curtly, and strode out of his office.


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's note : Many thanks to anon_decepticon for editing this chapter! There's also a shoutout to her fic "After Atlantis" here._

_Reading and reviewing is always appreciated. :)_

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

Silverbolt didn't fly far. Only to a point high on the side of the volcano, perhaps two hundred feet below the crater, where erosion had worn a sloping sort of ledge just wide enough for him to rest on in root mode. He sat there, though before he allowed himself to lean back against the rock he automatically checked the duty roster to see if he had anything scheduled for the next few hours. Finding that blank, he slumped back and stared at the sky.

_Frag it all._ The Aerialbots knew, with the certainty only a gestalt link provided, what the chinks in his armor were, but they'd never used those quite so vehemently before. Well, except in the early days just after they'd all been brought online. Making mistakes had been part of getting accustomed to their new lives, their new positions, the war they'd been created to fight, and Silverbolt knew he'd made his share too.

But he'd thought things had settled down since then. He'd thought he had slowly but steadily begun earning his team's respect—not necessarily for his position (which as Slingshot pointed out had been conferred on him), but for who he was and who he tried to be with them. _Apparently not._

Someone pinged him on the Aerialbot channel. _Fireflight_. Of course, that made sense—the others knew when they had crossed a line, so they sent Fireflight to do their dirty work for them. Silverbolt opened his side of the comm.

"_Leave me alone,_" he said, and closed the channel again. He really wasn't in the right state of mind to deal with his team.

The sky was growing redder, in counterpart to his mood. He began to think it was a good idea Powerglide wasn't around; he probably would have taken on the minibot, just to work off some of his hurt and frustration. And some of that mess was Powerglide's fault too. He'd known exactly what to say to rile Air Raid and the others.

Gradually the sky darkened and the air grew colder. In the distance Silverbolt heard engines, tiny growls from far beneath, as a night patrol set out. He didn't look down, but the sounds reminded him of the other Autobots and made him feel lonely for the first time since he'd flown up to the mountain.

Finally he unfolded himself; his hydraulics seemed to have locked up and his struts popped a little as he rose. He flew back down and plodded back into the Ark.

His quarters were deserted, much to his relief, though there was a datapad on his desk that hadn't been there before. Silverbolt closed the door, picked up the datapad and activated it.

_Bolt – we're sorry. Didn't mean to tork you off. We won't talk about you know what again and Skydive says he doesn't really want his own room. He's totally lying, but pretend you beleive him. Air Raid & Slingshot._

Below that Fireflight had drawn small sketches of the four of them, all with identical sad faces. Despite himself, Silverbolt felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. He put the datapad back down and returned to his flight schedules, deciding the best thing he could do was to not refer to the incident again. If the other Aerialbots had put it behind them, best for him to do the same. He let a little of his control relax, just enough that his softening mood could slip into the gestalt bond to let the Aerialbots know they were forgiven.

And it would all have ended there, if not for Powerglide.

Two days later, when Silverbolt went off-duty, he hurried to the common room to collect his energon ration before he met Perceptor for the weekly chess game. He had never yet won one, but Perceptor told him he was "demonstrating almost exponential improvement". _Or maybe I just can't give up on a lost cause,_ he thought wryly as he made his way to the energon dispenser and entered his code.

"Hey, Powerglide, look who's here!" Brawn's voice rang out. "It's the _other_ Air Commander!"

Silverbolt's spirits sank like lead, because the last thing he wanted to do was to start all that slag up again. Fixing a politely blank expression on his face, he turned to the tables the minibots usually occupied—the ones as close to both the dispenser and the large-screen television as possible.

Powerglide had been sitting with his back to Silverbolt, but he swiveled at once, hooking an arm over his chair. "Silverbolt!" he said, and made a little salute. "Don't mind Brawn. Air Commander is just a fancy title for the most talented and experienced and bravest flyer—being the Aerialbot leader is a _much_ better position in terms of duty and responsibility."

Silverbolt would dearly have liked to deliver a scathing retort to that, but nothing came to mind, though he had a feeling he would think of the perfect comeback when he lay awake that night. His only consolation was that none of the other Aerialbots were around to witness the spectacle. So he picked up the full cube—though he no longer wanted it—and left the common room. He struggled through the game of chess but ended up losing that as well.

Since he was feeling low enough by the time he returned to his quarters, he decided to get it over with and see Mirage, because even if he got a dismissive brush-off in return, it could hardly make him feel worse than he did already. Just to be on the safe side, though, he rummaged in a cabinet until he found a can of polish—a new and rather costly one. It was his sole self-indulgence, but he supposed Mirage, who always looked as though he was fresh off the assembly line, could put it to better use.

Mirage didn't look pleased to see him, but he invited Silverbolt into his meticulously tidy quarters nevertheless. "Please, sit down," he said, though the place was so look-but don't-touch that Silverbolt demurred.

"One of my team recounted a vulgar joke involving you in the common room two days ago," he said. "They don't mean any harm…" That was stretching the truth a little, because Slingshot sometimes did. "…but it was thoughtless and I apologize for it."

"Oh." Mirage seemed surprised, but his usual manners were in evidence at once. "Thank you, Silverbolt."

Silverbolt held out the can of polish. "And this is for you."

Mirage glanced at it for a fraction of a second too long, just enough time for Silverbolt to realize that what was expensive to him was by no means so to Mirage. Before he could wonder just how inferior the polish was, though, Mirage replied.

"That's very kind of you," he said, and if his smile was cool and restrained, it was also more of a response than any Aerialbot had ever received from him. "I've been needing some new polish."

Silverbolt handed it over, realizing that whatever Mirage might actually feel, his behavior would always be impeccably correct. It reminded him of Skydive a little, even though Skydive in his worst moments had more warmth; even when he drew apart from the rest of them, the gestalt link kept him in their collective subconsciousness, on the edge of it but never gone.

Thinking about that made him realize how long it had been since he'd simply spent time with his team—not patrolling, not maneuvers, not debriefing or writing up incident reports—and he headed back to what Air Raid called "jet territory". Maybe he would join Slingshot for target practice, or see the metal butterfly Fireflight was trying his best to sculpt.

Before he could reach their quarters, though, Red Alert commed him. "_Do you have a moment, Silverbolt?_" he said.

That was unusual, because when the other Aerialbots got into trouble, Red Alert never asked if Silverbolt had time to discuss it; he simply wrote them up. "_Of course,_" Silverbolt said, wondering if whatever had happened was so serious that Red Alert was trying to break it to him before he found out via internal memo.

"_Good. Would you meet me in my office?_"

Inwardly dreading what he was about to hear, Silverbolt went to Security. But to his surprise, Red Alert was, if not pleasant and welcoming, hardly as irascible and rigid as he often came across from the other Aerialbots' often-biased descriptions. Best of all, he'd summoned Silverbolt to head off a potential confrontation, rather than meting out punishment duty and replacing limbs afterwards. Silverbolt was all for preventative maintenance, too.

"It's this business about us having an Air Commander." Red Alert pronounced the last two words as if holding them distastefully between finger and thumb, and Silverbolt had the impression that what might originally have begun as a jibe was starting to take on a life of its own. "I understand that Powerglide has been mentioning this in earshot of your team."

"Needling us," Silverbolt said bluntly.

Red Alert tilted his head a little to one side. "I'm not sure how you can put an end to that," he said, "but I'd like to stop any infighting before it begins."

An inspiration struck Silverbolt. "Maybe you could let me know when Powerglide is off-duty," he said. "I could try to keep my team out of the common areas at those times, and if we're not around for him to bait, this should all die down."

He didn't think other mechs' duty schedules would be available to the rank-and-file, but there were some advantages to being a combiner team leader, and Red Alert agreed to do so. "I'm relieved you're taking this seriously," he said, and his tone darkened. "_Some_ mechs don't."

Silverbolt had heard a lot of the Ark gossip about Red Alert—everything from him being simply paranoid to completely glitched in the head to the point where he had once teamed up with Starscream of all 'cons. Then again, the Aerialbots had far more serious problems—what kind of flyer was afraid of heights, for instance?—and they had once trusted Starscream too, so he couldn't really criticize anyone else for doing so.

"I'll do whatever it takes to keep my team safe," he said. "Just as you do the whole of the Ark, which is far more of a responsibility."

"You have no idea," Red Alert said, leaning forward. "And only too often, it seems as though the greatest threats to our security come from within rather than without. You know what I mean? I would give my right axle for a chance to crack down on those criminal _elements_ who openly flout strictures—if they're not actually dealing with the Decepticons, that is. But I suspect the gravity of the situation will only be apparent to everyone else once it's too late."

Silverbolt began to think that perhaps his team and Ark rumor had a point after all. He glanced past Red Alert's shoulder-cannon at the multitude of security feeds, hoping to see a few of said Decepticons in them—anything to distract the Security Director—but there was nothing of interest other than various Autobots going about their duties. So he listened to the tirade until Red Alert finally seemed to run out of steam, thanked Silverbolt for his time and turned back to the monitors.

The end result of that, though, was that he was far too late to spend any time with his team, and when they went out to practice maneuvers the next day, the session was a disaster. Fireflight was more distracted than usual and Air Raid seemed to be trying to break the light barrier, never mind the sound one. Slingshot just egged them on. Skydive did keep in formation and follow instructions, mostly because half of the maneuvers were his idea to begin with, but he didn't speak to Silverbolt unless it was absolutely necessary, and when he did, the terse replies had a sarcastic edge.

Finally Silverbolt called a halt and landed, waiting for the others to do the same. There wasn't much else he could do, though he really wanted to say that Powerglide could be the Air Commander with his blessing if that meant Powerglide was now in charge of practice sessions.

Instead, he looked around at the Aerialbots and said simply that judging from their performance, they weren't ready for battle, not against Seekers, not against Stunticons (_and not against a flock of migrating geese_, he thought). "Whether you practice in your free time or not is up to you," he said finally, his voice low and quiet, "but as it stands, I'm not leading us into a dogfight where one or more of us is likely to die."

There was an uncomfortable silence when he had finished, because he had never before brought up the consequences of failure so bluntly. The Aerialbots were just over a year old. They didn't have the millenia of experience the other Autobots did, and so death was something irrelevant that simply didn't apply to them—until then.

Silverbolt felt a tight, unpleasant clench through the gestalt link, a sensation like his primary fuel lines being drawn into a slow knot. One of the few things guaranteed to make his team rise above their individual issues was the prospect of those problems harming another Aerialbot, and it was moments like that he was proudest of them.

"And I think we need a break," he said without altering his tone. "Like a day off. How does that sound?"

Air Raid was always the first to recover. "Seriously?"

"When am I ever not serious?"

That brought relieved or reluctant smiles to everyone's faces—except for Skydive, who had the grace to look faintly guilty. Silverbolt smiled too. He might have been given his rank, incongruous though that looked at first—a passenger plane in control of four fighter jets—but he couldn't have held on to his team by bullying them or enforcing his authority with physical discipline. He knew them only too well; if he'd tried that, the other four would have closed ranks against him at best and defected to the 'cons at worst.

And either one would have devastated him. So he resorted to different tactics, and if the switch in topic was a little abrupt, that was fine. The team could think he was an unadventurous drag, a stodgy disciplinarian, a loyal prop of the command structure—in the heat of an argument Slingshot had once called him an Autobot, meaning it as an insult—but the day they thought he was predictable, he'd be out of a job.

"Where are we going?" Skydive said.

It was taken for granted that when they got a rare day off, the last thing they would do was hang around the Ark. Silverbolt knew that didn't help; too many of the other Autobots took it as standoffishness, but there wasn't much he could do about that, and it looked as though even Skydive had thawed, which made him feel better.

"I'll think of something," he said, and commed Prowl with his request. Before they returned to the Ark, he'd gotten approval, so the day seemed to be improving. He left the other Aerialbots in the washracks and went to collect their rations.

He paused then, glancing around the room._ Maybe I should ask someone else for suggestions where to go_. The other Autobots knew the country far better than he did, after all. Silverbolt had never found it easy to be sociable outside his team, where there was no gestalt bond to show him what the other mech really felt, but there were at least a few 'bots friendly enough that he didn't need it.

So now he looked around until he spotted Hound, who was at a corner table having an animated discussion with Trailbreaker. Silverbolt hesitated, wondering whether to talk to him later, but Hound noticed him a moment later and waved at him. Trailbreaker nodded a greeting as well.

It didn't look as though he'd be intruding too much, so Silverbolt went over to them, balancing his collection of cubes, and explained about their getting the day off. "Do you have any ideas where we could go?" he said.

"Sure!" Hound's optics brightened. "There's the Bonneville Fish Hatchery. We had a great time there once."

"We sure did, but I don't think that would really work for the Aerialbots, Hound," Trailbreaker said. He turned his cube from side to side between his fingers. "But there's another place you might try. I heard of these humans who are building sort of an obstacle course for planes."

"Really?" Silverbolt said. "That sounds perfect."

Trailbreaker nodded. "Yeah, they're going to hold some sort of air racing championship there next year—a slalom course over water, pylons to dodge, that kind of thing. Of course that's not open to the public yet, but I'll bet they wouldn't mind if you guys helped field-test it."

"Oh, we'd love to." Silverbolt could imagine the other Aerialbots coming up with ways to make the obstacle course all but lethal, but they would enjoy it, and it might even help them get over their aversion to humans. "Could you send me a datafile about this?"

"Soon as I get back to my quarters," Trailbreaker said, smiling. "Let me know how it goes."

"Sure," Silverbolt said. "Thank you, Trail…"

He stopped as he saw Powerglide swagger into the room, four other minibots in tow. Powerglide spotted him at once and grinned broadly, then nudged Cliffjumper and pointed in Silverbolt's direction.

_Frag, not again._ Silverbolt juggled the cubes to steady them and glanced back at Trailbreaker. "I'll see you later," he said, and began to make his way to the door. Powerglide was no fool; he would never offer open insults, and even the snide mockery was couched as a joke between him and his friends.

It was just that everyone around them also happened to hear it. Even in a crowd, Powerglide was so exuberant and bombastic that he stood out and commanded attention. Silverbolt glanced back when he was at the door and saw Powerglide with his arms extended, doing an impression of a jet spiraling down in an uncontrolled descent. Silverbolt was too far away to tell if the running commentary involved any of the Aerialbots, but he had a suspicion it did.

He had no qualms about blasting Decepticons, but he didn't want to fight another Autobot—though even if he had wanted to, he doubted Powerglide would make it easy. Silverbolt had a clear advantage in size, height, speed and firepower, but Powerglide had far more experience in the air, although his specialty was short-range reconnaissance rather than the crossing-the-continent flights the Aerialbots were capable of.

_He could still fly circles around me_… _and he'd _enjoy_ it. _Silverbolt would have given a great deal to love flying, rather than tolerate it at best and endure it at worst.

Sighing inwardly, he took a step out and bumped straight into Jazz.

"Whoa!" A hand shot out and steadied the topmost cube before it could fall. "You okay, Great White?"

"Yes, I—" Silverbolt stopped. "Great White? As in, shark?"

Jazz grinned. "Nothin' wrong with sharks."

"Don't some species attack humans?" Silverbolt said. "They're predators."

"Apex predators, top of the marine food chain." Jazz began rearranging the cubes in Silverbolt's arms to stack them more securely. "Perfectly evolved to their environment over millions of years and able to smell a drop of blood from miles away."

Silverbolt stared down at him—like most Autobots, Jazz was shorter than he was, but he had never made the mistake of underestimating the saboteur. "Are you telling me this for a reason?"

"Maybe." The grin vanished, and Jazz's voice was unexpectedly quieter. "I don't want you to feel you have to give way all the time, y'know?"

"Any other options?" Silverbolt said, keeping his voice soft as well. "Other than the one my team suggested already?"

There was no need to spell anything out to Jazz; he seemed quite comfortable with the oblique slant of the conversation. "Try turning it around," he said. "Like you turned _them_ around." Then he was gone, slipping into the crowded common room as easily as a shadow.

Silverbolt began the long walk back to jet territory, his processors humming, and only realized how preoccupied he'd been when a motorbike swerved before him and slewed to a halt across the passageway, blocking his path. He turned to see the other Protectobots a few yards behind him.

"Earth to Silverbolt," Hot Spot said. "You okay? You walked right past us and didn't answer me."

"Sorry." Silverbolt gave him an apologetic shrug. "Just have a lot on my mind right now."

Hot Spot nodded. "Well, there's this batch of high-grade we, ah, discovered, and we were just thinking we should test it out to make sure it's good for general use."

"You're welcome to join us," Streetwise said, as Groove did a neat loop and raced back to the Protectobots.

"Unless you're still moping over what Powerglitch said." Blades had a way of getting straight to the point. "He told this joke about—"

"Never mind, Blades," Hot Spot said. "I think Silverbolt's probably heard more than enough from Powerglide and about Powerglide recently."

"You could say that," Silverbolt said. "But I have an idea."

"Oh, really?" When Blades's rotors whirred Silverbolt could see how sharp the edges were. "You gonna beat him in a flight?"

Silverbolt smiled slowly. "No," he said. "I'm going to do something even worse."


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's note: Grimlock's dialogue is courtesy of anon_decepticon, andmuch appreciated!_

_Thanks for reading and reviewing. :)_**  
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* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

_Turn it around, like you turned them around._

Silverbolt hadn't been sure what that meant at first. Sure, he'd brought his team back into the fold, but he'd done that by agreeing with them, telling them that if the Autobots were such losers, the Aerialbots could run the show instead. What was he supposed to do now—agree with Powerglide about the importance of a rank he never wanted to hear mentioned again, and then fight the minibot for it?

_Yes,_ he thought suddenly. _But the fight's going to be on my terms, not his._

First, though, he and his team could enjoy their day off. It meant he wouldn't be able to meet Perceptor for the weekly chess game, though, and he sent a transmission explaining that as he headed back to jet territory.

"_I would have had to cancel that myself,_" Perceptor replied. "_Ratchet's supposed to receive several shipments of medical supplies that day, so he'll require some assistance with the inventory._"

"_That shouldn't take you long,_" Silverbolt said.

"_If I were doing it all at once, no, but Swoop can only carry in so much at a time._"

Silverbolt frowned. "_The supplies are being air-freighted in?_"

"_Why, yes. From a secret storage depot in Denv_er."

_The mile-high city_, Silverbolt thought. "_Perceptor… if Ratchet needs those supplies air-lifted in, I'm available._"

"_But… didn't you say you asked for a day off?_"

"_I did, but I'd like to help out._" He didn't know if that part of the plan would work, but even in the worst-case scenario, he'd at least have brought in some medical supplies.

"_That's very generous of you, Silverbolt,_" Perceptor said warmly. "_I'm sure Ratchet will appreciate that. I'll let him know. Perceptor out._"

Silverbolt's comm pinged almost at once, and Slingshot didn't even wait for an acknowledgement to start. "_You've been gone for hours, and we're all starved!_" he said. "_Did someone mug you for the energon or what?_"

Silverbolt checked his chronometer. "_Just under one hour, and that was partly because I stopped to hear about this aerial obstacle course you could visit on our day off._"

"_Obstacle course?_" Air Raid said, not sounding at all like a starving mech.

"_Where is this?_" Skydive said.

"_What do you mean, 'you'?_" Fireflight said. There was a blank pause, which he filled in with, "_You said, '_you_ could visit on our day off'. You meant 'we', right?_"

Silverbolt braced himself. "_I won't be able to come._"

By then he was at their quarters, but the silence which followed his announcement had an ominous quality, and when the doors of Air Raid's and Slingshot's room slid open for him, none of the Aerialbots moved to get their energon.

"Why aren't you coming with us?" Fireflight said eventually.

"For once it can't have been Prowl's fault," Slingshot said. "If he gave you the day off, he wouldn't just take it back and if he did, he'd want the rest of us here as well. So what happened?"

"I can't tell you yet." Silverbolt set their cubes down on the table.

The other Aerialbots exchanged sideways looks. Silverbolt didn't need a gestalt link to sense their disappointment, but he knew they were uncertain as well; as their leader, he often had meetings that didn't involve them, but he was rarely if ever secretive about those.

"Maybe it is Prowl," Air Raid said. "He's scheduled some kind of command-structure-only briefing or training at the last minute…?" He let that trail off into a question and looked at Silverbolt hopefully.

"I'll send you guys all the information you need about the aerial obstacle course, and I'll clear it with the humans." Silverbolt picked up his own cube. "Have a good night."

Brisk and matter-of-fact though he tried to be, he couldn't entirely block the emotions that filtered through over their link, and when the other Aerialbots took off two days later, he longed to go with them. He didn't plan to comm them during the day, because they didn't need him looking over their shoulders and he had to believe they would be all right without him, but he missed them more than he had expected. Since their creation, they had flown together and trained together. _As soon as all this is over,_ he promised himself and went to report to Ratchet.

To his surprise, though, airlifting the supplies over hundreds of miles wasn't as lonely as he'd thought it would be. For one thing, Swoop didn't even seem to notice that Silverbolt was flying low. He simply adjusted his altitude to match and they ended up talking—at first, just about flying, since Silverbolt's conversational gambits tended to be as limited as Swoop's speech.

But after that Silverbolt found other things they had in common—the Dinobots were almost as young as the Aerialbots, and Swoop's teammates had (temporarily, of course) once defected to the Decepticons as well. It made the time go by much faster. They refueled in the repair bay after the first delivery, while Ratchet, Wheeljack and Perceptor unpacked the crates, and then flew off for the second round, which turned into a friendly competition. Silverbolt won on speed but Swoop pulled off better maneuvers, and they returned to the Ark ahead of schedule that evening.

The Aerialbots hadn't returned yet, so Silverbolt went to the common room to collect their ration; until he'd settled things, he wanted to keep the team and Powerglide as far apart as possible. He had to pass the minibots' table to get to the dispenser, and Powerglide issued a loud invitation to join them, saying they were discussing all the battles they'd fought in their long history. _Because he knows I barely have one_, Silverbolt thought as he left.

He felt much better when the Aerialbots returned shortly afterwards, because they had enjoyed themselves and no one, including the humans building the obstacle course, had been hurt. Skydive didn't like the responsibility of being the second-in-command, but he did step up to the plate when there was no other choice, and the others had taken plenty of image captures to show him. They even forgot to ask what he had been doing all day.

They found out soon enough, though. The next day, Silverbolt left the Ark for a brief solo flight to test a replaced wing support strut, but halfway through he felt a fierce surge of anger through the gestalt bond, a sensation as if his fuel was boiling in its tanks. He landed and opened a comm link to his team.

"_What's going on?_" he said.

"_You'd better get back here,_" Skydive replied, and wouldn't say any more.

_Primus_, Silverbolt thought and flew back at top speed. He found the other Aerialbots waiting in Skydive's and Fireflight's quarters, except there was no sign of Air Raid, and a simmering resentment filled the room, making it seem even smaller.

"Report," he said tersely.

Skydive rose from his bunk. "We heard you spent our day off hanging out with a Dinobot," he said. "I'm sure he was much better company than your team, but we'd have appreciated knowing about this from you."

"As opposed to…?" Silverbolt remembered the crackling-hot fury he'd felt earlier, and a sudden suspicion made his wings twitch. "Was it Powerglide?"

Fireflight nodded. "Raider took a swing at him, so Ironhide broke it up and he got punishment duty… cleaning." He seemed to be the only one who wasn't thoroughly torqued off, and although the look in his optics was distant with confusion, Silverbolt could sense the hurt behind it. "Why didn't you want to be with us?"

Silverbolt's temper, usually held under careful control, went inciendiary. He could put up with Powerglide needling him, but no one, absolutely no one, tried to drive a wedge between him and his team.

_I'm settling this right now._

He sent a location query to Teletraan-1 and made sure Powerglide was in the common room. "Come with me," he said to the other Aerialbots, opening a comm to Air Raid at the same time. "_Meet me in the common room. We can deal with your punishment duty later._"

Three pairs of optics focused on him in surprise and caution, which was understandable; if Air Raid's earlier anger had been like a fire flashing though their link, Silverbolt's was a cold-fusion warhead. He turned on his heel and walked out of their quarters, barely hearing the others hurry to keep up with his long strides.

He didn't pause even when he entered the common room, and talk fell silent as 'bots noticed him. In the silence, the scrape and swivel of chairs turning in his direction was all the louder. Someone must have muted the television as well, but Silverbolt never looked away from Powerglide as he approached the minibots' table.

Powerglide saw him coming, of course, but the prospect of a fight only seemed to make his optics gleam more brightly. "Silverbolt!" His voice rang out in the sudden quiet. "And all your friends! Care to join us?"

"No." Silverbolt stopped, looking down at Powerglide. In the pause, he heard Air Raid enter the room and hurry to join the rest of them. "I'm here to settle which of us is going to be the Air Commander."

Murmurs ran around the room and even though Powerglide wore a mask, Silverbolt could tell he was delighted. "About time," he drawled. "I was wondering how long it'd take you to get your tailfins in the air! But don't worry—even though I'm going to win, you'll learn a lot about flying from the experience. There's a reason I'm called the sultan of the skies."

"Aft of the air, more like," Slingshot said.

"Be quiet," Silverbolt said to him, then turned back to Powerglide with a look that was half puzzled and half disapproving. "You wanted to have a flying contest?" he said. "A test of skill? Doesn't that sound like something the Decepticons would do?"

Powerglide's confident look flickered. "What?"

"I said, doesn't that sound like something the Decepticons would do?" Silverbolt said, raising his voice a fraction. "That's the way _they_ fight over ranks, in cutthroat contests of skills. Probably cheating, too. I think Autobots can settle things in a much more civilized and democratic way, don't you?"

Brawn looked nonplussed. "What'd you have in mind, a tiddlywinks match?"

A couple of 'bots laughed, but Powerglide didn't, and Silverbolt only smiled. "Let's put it to a vote," he said. "Let's see which of us commands the confidence and trust of our fellow Autobots."

Powerglide hesitated. "All right," he said. "Say, in three days' time."

"Say, now."

"No way," Powerglide said. "You can't just hold some impromptu thing like this—you need to give 'bots time to learn about the stakes and decide whom to vote for."

Silverbolt took a step back and turned to face the room. "Is there anyone here who _hasn't_ heard about Powerglide wanting to be the Air Commander?"

No one said anything, though that gave him a chance to see that the room was starting to fill up as word flew through the ship.

"Is there anyone here who needs three days to decide how they're going to vote?"

Jazz raised his hand. "As long as each side plies me with energon during that time."

Silverbolt glanced back at Powerglide and raised a brow ridge.

Although he was clearly taken aback, Powerglide adapted fast and was clearly ready for the challenge. He got to his feet unhurriedly and all but swaggered as he moved out of Silverbolt's shadow so the rest of the room could see him.

"All right, everyone, time to vote for the best and most experienced flyer in the Autobot army," he said cheerfully. "Who's on my side?"

Silverbolt had expected Powerglide's fellow minibots to fall in with him, and so they did. Brawn and Cliffjumper were the first. Gears complained that they didn't need an Air Commander—in fact, he wasn't sure they needed planes at all, let alone five new ones, and he _was_ sure one of them had pretended to strafe him the other day, which had sent him driving straight into a prickly shrub and convincing him he was going to become one with Primus. At that point even Powerglide glared at him and tapped one foot on the floor pointedly, so Gears sighed.

"Fine," he said. "Powerglide. Not that it matters. Politics… just a way of doing nothing, but taking plenty of time and energon to do it."

Huffer, who had just arrived, voted for Powerglide, followed by Cosmos and Tracks. Silverbolt had no idea if Tracks and Powerglide were friends, or if the other Aerialbots had perhaps teased Tracks about his flying skills (or worse, his paintjob), but the end result was that Powerglide looked even more smug.

"Not bad, not bad at all," he said. "So that's Brawn, Cliffjumper, Gears, Huffer, Cosmos, Tracks… and myself, of course. Beachcomber, how about you?"

"Uh, can I pass?" Beachcomber hadn't moved, but he looked as though he'd been hoping to sidle away. "I don't really wanna vote, man. I like both of you."

Powerglide's brow ridges came together. "No, you can't _not_ vote," he said. "You chose a faction in the war, didn't you, or am I imagining that Autobot sigil on your chestplate? If you're a Neutral, you'll just get caught in the crossfire from both sides. Refusing to vote is a sign of cowardice, so—"

"Abstaining," Prowl's voice cut in like a knife, "is nothing of the sort."

Silverbolt hadn't seen him come in, but although he stood at the other side of the room and didn't raise his voice, no one had any difficulty hearing him. His doorwings caught the light and flashed, even though he stood still.

"Coercing anyone to vote is hardly a sign of freedom and choice," he continued evenly. "And I mean to abstain as well. Do you want to accuse me of cowardice, Powerglide?"

"Of course not," Powerglide said, recovering quickly, but Beachcomber had clearly taken the admonishment seriously, and even though Powerglide reassured him vehemently that he could vote or not vote as he chose, he murmured quietly that he voted for Powerglide. Bumblebee did abstain, and Seaspray was on an assignment with an oceaongraphy institute. Silverbolt wondered who else would join the other side.

Ironhide did, though from the hard glare he shot at the Aerialbots, Silverbolt guessed he felt he was choosing the lesser of two evils. _Nine for Powerglide,_ he thought. Inferno seemed to have guessed the sentiment behind the vote as well, because he spoke up.

"I don't think this should be a popularity contest," he said. "If we're voting on who's going to be the Air Commander, we need to think about what that position means. I hate the Decepticons' struts, but they got that much right—the Air Commander has to be the best flyer, and I gotta admit, that's Powerglide."

For the first time Silverbolt wondered if he had miscalculated. Powerglide had ten votes already, and Inferno had actually made a good argument in favor of voting for him—an argument which might carry all the more weight because it was clearly reasoned, rather than being emotional. What if more 'bots followed his lead?

It made him feel as he sometimes did when he flew too high and then looked down to realize the ground was no longer even visible. But there was the gestalt link, the presence of the other parts of himself, and he drew on that. Air Raid's fearlessness, Slingshot's thirst for the fight, Skydive's cold calculation and Fireflight's insight—he needed them all, and they joined in his own calm center to steady his course.

"Ten," Powerglide said. "Thanks, Inferno."

"_I don't agree, Inferno._" Red Alert's voice echoed from the intercom overhead. "_Yes, half the position is 'air'. But the other half is 'commander'. The successful candidate must be one who has demonstrated the capacity to lead air support and to integrate said support into the structure of our army. I think Silverbolt lives up to those standards."_

"Thank you, Red Alert," Silverbolt said, hope flaring.

"One," Powerglide said. "And I guess your team will be voting for you too? Six, then."

"Five," Silverbolt said pleasantly. "I won't need to vote for myself."

"Ten, actually," Hot Spot said.

"Gestalts." Powerglide made the word sound like a mouthful of slag. He leaned back against the table, making it creak. "Ten, then. Who wants to be the tie-breaker?"

"How about the Dinobots?" Silverbolt said.

Powerglide straightened up in an obviously involuntary reaction, and the table rocked, energon sloshing in cubes. "Are you kidding?"

"When am I ever not serious?"

"The Dinobots? They don't even know what voting _is_."

A chair scraped back as Wheeljack got to his feet, and though he wasn't particularly tall or attention-commanding, all optics went to him. "The Dinobots are more than familiar with the concept of choice, Powerglide," he said, "and I think they'd be willing to participate in this. They're Autobots too, after all. Just a moment while I comm them."

In the pause, Silverbolt's comm pinged. "_You planned all this, didn't you?_" Air Raid said. "_You sneaky fragger, you set it up from the start_."

"_Just in case anyone was thinking Prime picked my name out of a hat,_" Silverbolt replied.

The room was crowded already, but when the five Dinobots pushed their way in, 'bots had to press against the walls to make room for them. Swoop gave Silverbolt a cheerful wave, then transformed and settled down on Sludge's back. Grimlock stepped to the forefront.

"Us Dinobots here to vote for Air Commander," he announced. "Him Wheeljack tell us who to vote for."

"Hey, that's not fair, Wheeljack!" Powerglide said at once. "You can't tell them—"

"I told them they had to vote for either you or Silverbolt!" Wheeljack said. "Primus! You really think I need to make those decisions for them?"

Grimlock rumbled an assent. "Us Dinobots choose just fine. Him Swoop say him Silverbolt, but me Grimlock not so sure."

"Me Slag not like any Autobots," Slag put in.

"Me Snarl not care either."

Grimlock fixed a baleful look on Silverbolt. "Me Grimlock vote for…" He paused, drawing out the silence to make sure he had everyone's attention. "…me Grimlock."

Wheeljack's vocal indicators flashed a blink. "You can't vote for yourself," he said.

"Then me Grimlock not vote."

Silverbolt leaned close to Powerglide and lowered his voice. "This would be a great time for the abstaining-is-cowardice speech."

"Oh, frag off."

Wheeljack sighed. "Okay, Grimlock. Thanks for joining in, guys."

The Dinobots turned around as best they could, with Sludge's tail nearly knocking a table over, and pushed their way out, Slag muttering about a waste of time. "Thanks for the tiebreaker vote," Silverbolt called to Swoop before they disappeared out the door.

"Big deal." Powerglide folded his arms. "You need more than just _one _vote over my tally."

"Then he's got it." Sunstreaker had been calmly sipping energon, but now he set his cube down with a thud. "I couldn't care less about either of you, but anyone whom Tracks votes for has to be an idiot. So… Silverbolt."

"And anyone whom Sunstreaker votes for…" Sideswipe paused. "Nah, too easy."

"Funny," Sunstreaker said flatly. "So who _are_ you voting for?"

"Silverbolt, I guess. At least he won't go on and fragging on about it if he wins."

Silverbolt grinned. "Thirteen," he said.

"Fourteen," Wheeljack said. "How about you, Ratch?"

"Hmm…" Ratchet looked into his near-empty cube as if hoping to see the answer at the bottom. "Oh, fine. Fifteen."

"Sixteen," a quiet voice said, and Silverbolt glanced around to see Mirage leaning against a wall. Jazz didn't even say anything when everyone looked his way; he just smiled faintly and tilted his head in Silverbolt's direction. Hound and Trailbreaker brought the number up to nineteen, and at that point Prowl spoke up.

"Hoist and Grapple are in Portland," he said. "Bluestreak and Windcharger are on patrol, so they don't need distractions. Skyfire is on a supply run and Prime won't be voting, of course. Is there anyone whom we've left out?"

"Perceptor," Silverbolt said. "He's not here."

"_He's in his laboratory_," Red Alert said. "_I'll patch him through._" The intercom clicked and beeped.

"_This had better be urgent, Red Alert._" Perceptor sounded a little testy. "_I was determining the maximum temperature in a catalytic converter with the new ceramic shielding in place."_

"_It won't take long_," Red Alert said. "_We're voting for the new Air Commander."_

"_Well, Silverbolt, of course. Who else is there_? _Now may I return to my work?_"

_Twenty_, Silverbolt thought. _Twice as many as Powerglide. And I didn't even vote for myself._

Fireflight glanced up at him. "I think that makes you the Air Commander," he said.

Silverbolt wasn't sure who first began to clap, but it broke out from all sides and there were even a few cheers. He thanked everyone, even though they could barely hear him over the noise, and there was as much triumph as relief in his smile. The title was meaningless—Prime knew that, which was why he hadn't voted—but the victory was what mattered, and _that_ was his. Powerglide sank back into his chair, and for once he was silent as Silverbolt turned to him and leaned down.

"Don't ever mess with my team again," he said quietly. "And stay out of my way, or else I'll _really_ get mad."

He turned and began to make his way to the door, which took a little time since there were plenty of congratulatory comments and friendly jokes along the way—plus, the room was still so crowded that he had to twist to get his wings past everyone. The other Aerialbots followed in single file, though they didn't say anything even when Silverbolt opened the door to his office. He kept a few cubes of high-grade there for emergencies or celebrations, and since the whole incident had started out as one and ended as the other, now seemed a good time to break out the stash.

"Not bad, huh?" he said happily as he unlocked the cabinet. "I don't think we'll be hearing any more slag out of him."

"Guess so," Air Raid said.

Silverbolt straightened up. "What?"

"You didn't _beat_ him." Skydive shook his helm a little, as if disappointed but resigned to it. "You didn't outfly him or outfight him. You just did what you always do."

"Schmoozed," Slingshot said, and drew the word out until it was filled with disdain.

"You're better at making 'bots like you," Fireflight explained, "and that's nice, but that wasn't what all this was about."

"Yeah," Air Raid said. "But I knew what was coming the moment I heard the word 'vote'. Shoulda known you'd pick the safest, dullest way out, 'Bolt." He sighed, stretched his wings and rolled the kinks out of his struts. "Oh well. Got a lotta cleaning to finish."

"I'll help," Fireflight said, and the other two followed them out as well. The doors slid shut, leaving Silverbolt in his empty office with the untouched cubes of high-grade. After a moment, he put them back in the cabinet, locked that again and sat down at his desk.

"I wonder if the Decepticons need a new Air Commander," he said.

THE END


End file.
